


What's My Age Again?

by velvetjinx



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 13 Going on 30 AU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Fluff, Inspired by a Movie, M/M, Pining, stucky is endgame I swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 10:43:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11942451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetjinx/pseuds/velvetjinx
Summary: When Bucky wakes up after his 13th birthday party in the body of his 30 year old self he's terrified, and when he finds out he's lost touch with his best friend Steve Rogers it's like his whole world has fallen apart. The more Bucky discovers about his life now, the less he likes himself. But can he make things right?





	What's My Age Again?

**Author's Note:**

> So I watched 13 Going On 30 recently and was like IMAGINE STEVE AND BUCKY and so this fic was born. 
> 
> A million thanks to the enablers in the CapRBB slack chat, and ediblecrayon, for cheering me on as I wrote it. 
> 
> Title from Blink-182

Bucky Barnes hated middle school. His school photo was a mess--he'd been talking when the flash had gone off--and he sighed. Why couldn't anything go right for him?

He felt an arm go around his shoulder and looked over to see his best friend, Steve, with his ever present camera. He held it up and Bucky smiled as Steve took a photo of both of them. 

“How's the birthday boy?” Steve asked with a grin, and Bucky shrugged. “Well, never mind,” Steve continued. “I've got a surprise for you later.”

“Oooh, what is it?” Bucky asked, but Steve shook his head. 

“If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise, would it?”

“Hey Bucky.”

Bucky looked up and saw Natnat, the leader of the Six Chicks, smiling at him, her group behind her. The Six Chicks were the coolest girls in the school, and Bucky really wanted to be allowed to hang out with them. So far he had been unsuccessful, but he lived in hope. They were perfect like the girls in _Flair_ , his favourite magazine. That month’s issue had an article about how the thirties were the best time in a person's life. Frankly, Bucky couldn't wait to be thirty, and done with school forever. 

“Hey, Natnat,” he said shyly. 

She glanced disdainfully over at Steve. “Hey, Stick Insect.”

Bucky hid a frown. They always called Steve that, because he was kind of small and weedy. Steve didn't care, though, just rolled his eyes. 

“I'm going outside,” Steve told him. 

Natnat laughed. “Do whatever you want. It's not like he needs a play-by-play.”

The Six Chicks giggled, and Bucky laughed along with them, ignoring the pang of his conscience as Steve left without a backwards glance. 

“So hey, Bucky,” Natnat said sweetly, “Brock Rumlow wants to come to your party.”

Bucky's eyes widened. Brock Rumlow was the hottest guy in school, and the quarterback. Bucky’d had a crush on him since he was about seven years old. “He does?”

“Yeah. I'm afraid the Six Chicks won't be able to come, though. Ms Smith is totally riding our ass about this report so we're gonna have to write that tonight. Which… I guess means Brock won't be coming either, since he promised to help us.”

“I'll write your report!” Bucky blurted out. 

“You will? Fabulouso! Well, I guess we'll see you at the party, then.” They all smiled at him as they passed him, and Bucky hugged his books to his chest. This was going to be the best birthday ever. 

***

Bucky was in his parents’ basement getting the party set up when Steve appeared, a suspiciously large parcel in hand. 

“Is this my surprise?” Bucky asked breathlessly, and Steve nodded as he set it down on the small coffee table. 

“Well, go on, open it,” Steve said, smiling, and Bucky pulled off the wrapping paper to reveal…

“Oh my god,” Bucky said in hushed tones. 

“It's a base for your GI Joe. I know you always wanted GI Joe’s headquarters, and I don't know, I just improved it. See, there's you, guarding the battlements, and there's that guy you like, Nick Carter or whatever, guarding it with you, and I'm under here to make sure he keeps his hands to himself.”

“Oh, Steve!” Bucky flung his arms around Steve's neck. “I love it.”

“Oh, hey, I almost forgot.” Steve took a small packet from his pocket and tore it open, sprinkling the sparkling, glittery contents out onto the GI Joe base. “It's wishing dust,” he explained. “It makes all your dreams come true.”

Bucky smiled fondly at Steve, but just then the doorbell rang. Bucky's eyes widened. 

“Damn! Steve, uh, I'm just gonna put this away, and you can put on some music?”

It wasn't that he was embarrassed about his new GI Joe base, exactly, but it was kind of a little kid’s toy, and he wanted to look cool for the Six Chicks and Brock. 

He put the base on the top shelf of the basement closet, then ran up to get the door. The doorbell was ringing furiously now, and his dad was on his way down the stairs. Bucky pushed him back, saying frantically, “No, you promised you'd stay upstairs, you _promised_ ,” as he ran towards the door. 

He flung open the door and smiled at Natnat and her crew. “Hey, girls! Party is downstairs!”

Natnat nodded then gave a backwards look to her friends, and they all trooped in, piling their coats in Bucky's arms. Bucky smiled at them all; then, as he looked out across the driveway, a car parked by the side of the road and Brock Rumlow got out with a couple of his friends. Bucky sighed dreamily and greeted them all, stuttering his way through. 

He laid the coats on the stairs and led the guys down the stairs. The Six Chicks were standing off to one side, looking in amused disgust at Steve, who was moshing to Nirvana’s _Nevermind_. 

“What is with this music? Can I change it?” Natnat asked abruptly, and Bucky nodded, eager to make a good impression. 

Steve wrinkled his nose as Natnat went over to the CD player and changed the CD to an N-Sync album. 

“Narrow. Narrow, narrow people,” Steve muttered, before walking up to Bucky. “I'm gonna go next door and get my Casio.”

“Do whatever you want. It's not like I need a play-by-play,” Bucky said, and Steve's face fell as the others giggled. 

Steve gone, Natnat approached Bucky, taking the scarf off from around her neck. 

“I think we should play Seven Minutes In Heaven,” she murmured. “You're the birthday boy, so you go first.” She led Bucky over to the closet and pushed him inside, before tying the scarf around his eyes. 

“Uh, how does this one go again?” he asked nervously. 

“You stay in here and someone will come in and do whatever they want to you for seven whole minutes.” She lowered her voice. “I heard Brock say he wanted to go first, and he’s kind of an ass guy.”

Bucky let out a low “meep!” as he heard the closet door close, then open again. 

“By the way, where is our report?” Natnat asked. 

“On the table next to the snacks,” Bucky replied promptly, and the door closed again. He sat on the floor and waited for a few minutes, then heard the closet door open and smiled. “I thought you weren't coming,” he said softly, reaching out his hands. Hands came up and clasped his, and Bucky leaned forwards. “Oh, Brock,” he said with a sigh, and heard a gasp of surprise. 

“Brock? It's Steve!”

“What?” Bucky tore off the scarf and marched out the closet to the basement, only to find it devoid of people. “Where is everyone? What did you do?” he asked, furious. 

“I didn't do anything, they just bailed!”

“No, I don't believe it!” Bucky cried, running back into the closet and slamming the door behind him. 

“Buck? Are you okay?” Steve called through the door. 

“No I'm not, I hate you, I hate everything!” Bucky yelled back. 

“I'm gonna play you your birthday song, okay?” 

The electronic sound of the keyboard pierced through the door, and Bucky plugged up his ears with his fingers. 

“I wish I was thirty,” he said to himself hopelessly, rocking back and forth against the shelves behind him, and knocking some of the glitter off of his GI Joe base onto his shoulders. “Thirty and flirty and thriving. Thirty and flirty and thriving. Thirty and flirty and thriving…”

***

It was dark. 

Bucky tried to open his eyes wider, but it was completely dark, and it felt like he was in bed. He rolled towards what should have been the wall, and let out a quiet yell as he fell out. 

What the heck?

He crawled along the floor and out into the hallway, eventually bumping into a wall where a wall should not have been. He started to climb up it, but it stopped half way up and he pulled himself up. 

It was still dark, but now that he was more awake he realized there was something on his face, and pulled the mask up onto his forehead. 

There was a man staring back at him. A man in a t-shirt and sweatpants. 

Bucky gasped and ducked behind the wall, then slowly peeked over again. There was no man, but there was… a mirror? 

Bucky stood up and stared. The man stared back. Bucky flexed his muscles, and the man in the mirror did too. He touched his face--stubble! Real stubble!--and his long hair, watching as his reflection did the same. 

His hair was super soft. 

He turned around to see a large, spacious living room, and spotted some letters on the table. Hoping that this might clear up the mystery of what the heck was going on, he picked them up. 

They were all addressed to Bucky Barnes, at an apartment address in Brooklyn. 

Suddenly, a noise came from down the hallway, and Bucky grabbed an umbrella, walking slowly towards the noise, umbrella outstretched. 

“I don't know who you are!” he called. “But you'd better leave right now because my parents are going to be home _any minute_!”

The door opened, and a man walked out wearing only a towel. 

“Hey, sweet bottom,” the man said as Bucky’s eyes widened. “Are you out of conditioner?”

“Why are you naked?” Bucky asked, slightly hysterically. 

The man looked down in confusion. “Well, I'm not naked yet, but… if you want?” And with that the man pulled off his towel. Bucky caught a quick glance of the guy fully naked before he pressed the button on the umbrella and it shot open, hiding the guy’s… junk from view. The guy took a step towards Bucky, who panicked, throwing the umbrella at the guy and dashing for the door, grabbing keys, shoes, a coat, and a messenger bag on the way. 

He ran down about six flights of stairs, afraid to wait for the elevator in case the man chased him, and burst out the door at the bottom into the morning sunlight. 

A red haired woman was standing in front of an open car door, and beckoned to him when she saw him, a small device held up to her ear. 

“Bucky, will you get in the car?” she whispered. “We're already running late. No, that was not what I told him,” she added, talking into the device. “I told him that the prints should be there yesterday, and they weren't, so if they're not there today he's fired.” She rolled her eyes, then frowned. “Bucky, will you get in the car already?”

Bucky shook his head. “I don't get in the car with strangers,” he said. 

“Please, please get in the car? We're going to be so late!”

“I don't _get in the car with strangers_!” Bucky replied, hysteria rising again. 

Just then, a now-familiar voice yelled out a window from above, “Hey, sweet bottom! Don't make me come down there and getcha!” 

Bucky looked up and saw the naked man, gulped, made a split second decision and dived into the car. The woman got in behind him, tapping the screen on the device and sighing heavily. 

“Bucky, what the hell is wrong with you this morning? Driver, can we please go, already?”

Bucky looked at her pleadingly. “I don't know.”

“Are you hungover? And what are you wearing? Unless… is sloppy chic back in? Ugh no one tells me anything.”

Bucky blushed and squirmed in his seat. “No, I am not… hungover,” he finished on a whisper. 

“Bucky, I'm your best friend. I'm not going to judge you.”

“You're my best friend?” The woman looked at him in disbelief, and he nodded. “Okay, so I woke up this morning in a strange apartment, and everything was different, and there was a naked man and I _saw his thingy_!”

“Oh, no, not his thingy,” the woman said dryly. “Look, I don't care if you party on weeknights but if you're gonna end up a hot mess like this the next morning then maybe tone it down, huh?”

Bucky opened his mouth to protest, but before he could get the words out the car was pulling up to the sidewalk and the woman was getting out. He followed her, and as he did so his messenger bag started playing music. 

His eyes widened. “Can you hear that music?” he whispered frantically, and the woman rolled her eyes. 

“I swear to god, Barnes, you're going to be the death of me.” She grabbed his messenger bag and took out a small device that looked like the one she’d been holding earlier. As she handed it to him, it stopped making music. “It's just your phone, and it's probably Sam.”

“Sam?”

“Yeah, Sam Wilson, our boss?” The woman sighed. “Okay, repeat after me: ‘I am Bucky Barnes, big time magazine editor’.”

“I am?” he asked delightedly. The woman glared, and he suddenly feared for his wellbeing. “Sorry. I am Bucky Barnes, big time magazine editor.”

“I am going to walk into that office, and not let anyone know that I'm hungover--”

“But I'm not hungov--”

“ _Say it_!”

“I am going to walk into that office and not let anyone know I'm hungover,” he parroted in a rush. 

“Because I am a bad bitch, and the future of Flair depends on me.”

“Because I am a bad…” Bucky blushed, and whispered “bitch”, before continuing, “and the future of Flair… Wait. Flair? I work for Flair?”

The woman looked at him in disgust. “I give up. Hurry up or Sam will kill us.”

They took the elevator up, and Bucky found himself in a busy office. 

“Good morning Ms. Romanoff; Mr Barnes,” the receptionist said brightly. 

“Good morning!” Bucky replied, before whispering to the woman, “What's her name?”

“Ugh, who cares. Sam!”

A handsome, well dressed man was standing in front of them, arms folded, and looking annoyed. 

“I'm going to assume that my two executive editors are late this morning because they were out all night promoting the magazine?” he said, eyebrow raised, then sighed. “Never mind. Meeting in five minutes.”

“Sam!” Bucky burst out. “You're my boss!”

“That's right, Bucky,” Sam replied with a grin. “Who's your daddy?”

“George Barnes,” Bucky said promptly, and Sam looked confused. 

“Ohhh-kay. Anyway, I'll see you two in the meeting.”

He marched off, and Bucky swallowed hard. He looked around, and spotted a door with his name on. Inside was an amazing office, but he didn't have time to look around, just grabbed a notepad and pen from the desk and scooted back out, following everyone else into the meeting room. 

Everyone was chatting as they got settled, and a nervous looking guy with dark hair set a coffee and pastry down in front of Bucky. Bucky smiled up at him. 

“Hey, thanks!” he murmured. 

“Let me know if you need anything else, Mr Barnes,” the guy said, and Bucky's eyes widened. 

“You mean like a favor?”

The guy looked at Bucky, confusion written on his features. “Uh, sure?”

“Awesome! I need you to find someone for me. I have his phone number--”

Sam cleared his throat from the front of the room. “Bruce, will you leave us, please?”

Bruce nodded and began to walk towards the door. Bucky quickly scribbled down ‘Steve Rogers’ on the notebook in front of him along with his number, tore out the page, scrunched it and threw it at Bruce’s retreating back, falling off his chair in the process. 

The woman he'd taken the car with that morning was sitting next to him and sighed. “Bucky's a little hungover this morning,” she said to the room, and Bucky got several sympathetic looks as he clambered back onto his chair. Some of the looks weren't that sympathetic, though; some people looked like they were trying not to smirk, and Bucky wondered. 

At the front of the room, Sam began to tear the front cover from a magazine, and the room fell silent. 

“Six months,” he began. “Six issues we've been scooped by our biggest rival, Shimmer.” He pinned the torn off cover to the wall and pointed. The Flair cover had the promise of “Kim Kardashian West’s six beauty secrets” (whoever Kim Kardashian West was), but the Shimmer cover promised “Kim Kardashian West’s seventh beauty secret--the one she swore she'd never tell!”

“Now, which one of these magazines do you think Holly Housewife is going to go for?”

Bucky raised his hand, but the woman next to him shook her head at him and he lowered it. 

“We have to find our leak and plug it up immediately, because this is getting beyond a joke,” Sam continued. 

“I mean, Sam, we're making sure we all have strong passwords and the firewalls have no back doors,” the woman next to him said. 

“That's good, Natasha, but I'm not sure it'll be enough.”

“Bucky fired Carl yesterday,” the guy opposite offered. 

“Good,” Sam said. “I guarantee he had friends at Shimmer. He was always taking notes.”

“He was a secretary,” Natasha said dryly. 

“Whatever. Our party tonight is gonna be big, and we all have to make sure that people know that Flair is still the most relevant, important magazine out there. But desperate times call for desperate measures. We need to take apart our F.O.B., overhaul our B.O.B., think about new heads, decks, and slugs. Bucky, what do you think?”

Bucky stared at Sam like a deer in headlights. “Uh, can I go to the bathroom?” he asked weakly, and Sam sighed. 

***

The meeting let out soon after, and Bucky escaped to his office. He closed the door right behind him, and noticed some photographs on the walls. Curious, he went over to look at them. 

“Oh hey, it's the naked guy,” he murmured, seeing the top two photos--one of the two of them, Bucky sitting on the guy’s knee, the other of the guy by himself dressed in what looked to be a super expensive suit and standing in front of a building which read “Stark Solutions”. 

There was also a signed photograph of Debbie Harry, and Bucky read it in awe. “‘Bucky babe, cocktails anytime. Love, Debbie’. I can't believe I'm friends with Debbie Harry.”

There was a knock at his office door, and when Bucky opened it, Bruce was standing there, eyes wide and apprehensive. “I, uh, I have your messages,” he stammered, handing a pile of paper slips to Bucky. “Also your mother called from Jamaica.”

“My mom called? I wish you'd told me,” Bucky said wistfully. 

“Oh, I'm sorry Mr Barnes, I thought you said not to bother you with family calls.”

Bucky was taken aback. He loved his family. “I did? I said that?”

“Please don't fire me,” Bruce pleaded, and Bucky shook his head emphatically. 

“No, of course I won't, I just… I forgot that I said that. Next time my mom calls let me know.”

“Okay. Oh, I have that _other information_ you asked for.”

“Steve?” Bucky hissed excitedly and grabbed Bruce's arm, hauling him into the office and shutting the door behind him. 

“So, uh, that number you gave me was his old number? I got through to his grandmother. And I told her I worked for Amex and he was in big trouble!”

Bucky's eyes widened. “You lied to old Mrs Rogers?” He paused. “What happened to his mom?”

“I don't know, I'm sorry.”

“Don't worry about it. So did you get his details?”

“Yes!” Bruce held out a piece of paper. “He's in the Village.”

“Cool. Uh. Which village?”

Bruce looked at him oddly. “Greenwich… Village?”

“Oh, right, of course, yeah. Okay Bruce I gotta go!” Bucky grabbed the piece of paper and ran, ignoring Bruce calling behind him, and ran down to the street. After ten failed attempts to hire a cab, he sighed, and started walking. 

Some unknown amount of time--and six instances of stopping to get directions--later, Bucky found himself outside an apartment block. He looked at the buzzers and pressed the one next to the little slip of paper which read “Rogers”. 

“Hello?” said a voice over the intercom. 

“Hi, this is Bucky and I'm looking for Steve. I don't know if you're him but if you used to live on Spruce Street and your favorite pen has blue Shimmers on it…”

“Hi, yeah,” the voice over the intercom said, “I caught none of that. Look, if you're my food delivery press the buzzer twice, otherwise I'm really not interested.”

Bucky pressed twice. 

When he was finally outside Steve's door, he stopped. What if Steve didn't believe him? What if he thought Bucky was crazy? But that was stupid. They were best friends, even if that Natasha woman thought she was Bucky's best friend. 

He knocked. 

The door opened, and there stood the handsomest man Bucky had ever seen in real life. Tall, muscled, blond hair nicely styled… and looking so unlike his old friend that Bucky nearly turned tail and fled. 

“Uh. You're not the pizza guy,” Steve said, brows drawing together. 

“Steve?” Bucky asked, still unable to believe it. 

“Yeah?”

“You're tall. Different.”

“Uh. Yeah?”

“You don't know me?” Bucky asked, his last hope failing. “That's so weird because yesterday you were right there, except it wasn't yesterday and I'm--”

“Bucky.”

“Yes!” 

“Bucky Barnes.”

“Yes!” Bucky felt faint with the relief coursing through him. “Yes, Steve, it's me!”

“Hey.” Steve wasn't moving, but Bucky flung himself at Steve anyway, hugging him. 

“Oh, Steve.”

“Uh. Come in,” Steve said dryly, and Bucky pulled back, embarrassed. 

He followed Steve inside, and looked in awe at the walls, covered in drawings and paintings and photographs. 

“You still take photos and do art?” Bucky asked curiously. 

“Uh, yeah, it pays the bills.” Steve sighed. “Bucky, why are you here?”

“I told you, Steve, something really weird is going on! Yesterday was my thirteenth birthday, and then I woke up today and I'm… I'm this! And you're that! You know?”

“I hate to ask, but are you drunk? Or high? You been doing drugs?”

“Steve!” Bucky was scandalized that his friend would even think that of him. “No! No, I was in my closet and then I just sort of… sort of skipped everything and I don't remember my whole life from thirteen to now. You need to help me remember.”

Steve looked at him sadly. “Yeah, I don't think I'm the best person to help you with that.”

“Why not? You're my best friend!”

“Best friend? Bucky, I haven't seen you in years. Since high school. I don't know anything about you. We're not friends.”

Bucky felt his world collapse underneath him. Not friends with Steve? How could that be? Steve must have stopped talking to him, because surely it couldn't be the other way around. 

“Are you okay?” Steve sounded concerned. “You look a little pale. Maybe I should open a window.”

“I need fresh air and a glass of water and a fluffy pillow,” Bucky managed with a gasp. 

“Okay.” Steve guided him over to the sofa. “You just sit there and I'll get you some water… you want ice in that?”

“I want a fluffy pillow!” Bucky shrieked hysterically, and Steve's eyes widened as he backed out of the room, almost tripping over a box on the way. 

A few minutes later, Bucky felt a lot better. Steve had taken him to sit outside on a park bench with a glass of water and a very cuddly pillow. 

“Hey. You feeling better?” Steve asked softly, and Bucky nodded. “Hey, you know, I think you should go back to your apartment. I'll help you find it, but, like, we live separate lives now. We went to different colleges, took different paths.”

“What about at Christmas time? Didn't you want to see me then?”

“I don't think you've been home for Christmas in years. I'm pretty sure your crowd does St Bart's for Christmas.”

“I wouldn't know,” Bucky said quietly. What kind of person was he that he had lost his best friend and didn't want to be bothered with his family’s calls and didn't even go home for Christmas?

“Steve,” he said slowly. “When I was trying to find you… we got through to your grandma? Where's your mom?”

Steve looked at the ground. “Mom died when I was nineteen,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “My grandma had moved in with us the year before and she stayed on so I'd still have a familiar place to come home to, I guess.”

Bucky found himself blinking back tears. Mrs Rogers had been one of the nicest women he'd ever known. And for Steve to have gone through that was almost unthinkable. 

“I'm so sorry.”

“Thanks,” Steve said with a small smile, and tugged his arm. “Come on. Time to go.”

***

Steve walked him home, but Bucky was still too shaken to talk so the walk was a silent one. 

Finally, they were outside the apartment block Bucky had run from that morning. 

“Uh, this is me,” he said quietly, and Steve nodded. 

“Well, it was nice seeing you,” he replied, his whole posture awkward. “Good luck.”

“Okay. Uh. Bye?”

“Bye, Bucky.”

As Steve started to walk away, Bucky had a sudden thought. 

“Hey, Steve?”

Steve turned and looked at him questioningly. 

“Who's St Bart?”

Steve pressed his lips together, almost as though he was trying not to laugh, and came back. “Okay, okay. Come on.”

They took the elevator up to Bucky's floor and Bucky let them both in with the key he had found in his messenger bag. 

“Have you got our high school yearbook? That might be a good place to start,” Steve said, and Bucky frowned, scanning the bookshelf. 

“Oh, hey, here it is!”

Bucky opened the yearbook and looked through the photographs, each one credited to Steve. He came across one that made him do a double take and he stared at the page. 

“Steve, was I a Six Chick?”

“Uh, yeah. You were pretty much their leader by the end of high school.”

“Natnat. Gosh, I wonder what happened to her.”

Steve shrugged. “From what I hear, you two are still really good friends. I think you even work together.”

Something clicked in Bucky's head, and he laughed. “Of course, yeah! She's Natasha Romanoff now. She looks so different now.”

“Well, thousands of dollars of plastic surgery will do that,” Steve said, but his tone was mild so Bucky couldn't really call him on it. 

He turned another page and squeaked. 

“I was prom king?”

“Yup.”

“And I went with Brock Rumlow?”

“Uh, yeah. Yes you did.”

“Wow.” Bucky took a deep breath, shaken to his core. “I got everything I ever wanted.”

“Yeah, Bucky. You got everything you wanted. Well done.” Steve sounded weary, but before Bucky could say anything the music started up again. Knowing this time what it was, Bucky took the small phone from his bag and answered. 

“Hello?”

He smiled at Steve, waiting patiently as Bucky listened to the voice on the other end of the line tell him they were calling to confirm his limo booking. 

“My… limousine booking…?” He cleared his throat. “Yes, I will be prepared to take my ride at that time. Uh. Can you remind me where I'm going please? Okay, uh huh, thank you!”

Bucky flung himself backwards on the sofa, kicking his feet up in the air. 

“I'm going to a party in a limo!” he squealed, and Steve smiled slightly. 

“Well, it looks like you're back to your old self, so I should probably go.”

Bucky's face fell. “You don't want to come?”

“No, I gotta work. Thanks anyway?”

“Man, I forgot you had a job now.” Bucky walked Steve to the door, downhearted. “That's really cool though that we both have jobs, right?”

Steve's lips twitched. “Very cool.”

“Well, if you change your mind, it's at the Palace on Wall Street. It would be great to see you there. And it's gonna be fun.”

“Okay, well. Thanks, Bucky. See you later.”

Steve opened the door and walked towards the elevator. 

“Steve?” Bucky called, and Steve looked back. “What if this isn't actually a dream? What if I wished myself here and it's really real?”

Steve shrugged. “Then you got everything you ever wanted. My advice would be to enjoy it.”

Bucky nodded. “Thanks, Steve.”

“See you later, Bucky.”

Bucky closed the door, and it suddenly occurred to him that not once had Steve called him “Buck” like he used to. 

***

He took a long, luxurious shower, making sure to condition the ends of his long hair, then dried off carefully before wrapping the towel around his waist and opening what had to be the biggest walk-in closet he had ever seen. 

The most amazing clothes lined the walls: suits and leisure clothes organized by color. There were rows and rows of messenger bags, and at the end, the crowning glory: about a hundred pairs of shoes, from smart Italian shoes to expensive sneakers. 

Bucky was in heaven. 

He chose his outfit carefully, and finally settled on black slacks, a deep blue button down shirt that shimmered slightly in the light, and shiny black shoes. He tied his hair back into a bun and admired himself in the full length mirror. Damn, but he looked good now he had muscles. 

He chose a messenger bag that matched his outfit and put his keys and phone into it, before checking his expensive looking Rolex. It was almost time for the limo to arrive, so he figured he'd go down and wait on the street. 

When he got in the elevator, there was a young boy in there, and Bucky smiled at him. 

“Hey, how are you doing?” Bucky asked. “I'm Bucky.”

“I know,” the boy said warily. “I'm Peter.”

“How old are you, Peter?”

“Uh, thirteen?”

“Oh hey, me too!” Bucky said, before remembering and correcting himself. “Well, used to be.”

Peter have him an odd look. “Why are you talking to me?”

Bucky looked back in surprise. “Why not? We are neighbors, right?”

“Yeah, but… you usually ignore me.”

“Oh.” Bucky didn't know what to say to that, but was determined to make amends. “I like your shoes.”

“Thanks! I like your shirt.”

“It's because I've got these amazing muscles to fill it out!” Bucky blurted out, then blushed. 

Peter smirked, then looked down. “I like your bag.”

“Thanks! You should come over some time. I've got, like, a zillion of them.”

“Really?”

“Yeah!”

The elevator stopped, and they got out. 

“Well, see you later, Peter. I get to go to a party in a limo tonight!”

“Have fun,” Peter replied, laughing, and Bucky waved as he climbed into the waiting car. 

***

When he arrived at the party, he spotted Natasha standing at the bar and skipped up to her. 

“Hey Natnat!” he greeted her cheerfully, and Natasha grimaced. 

“God, no one’s called me that since my nose job.”

Bucky's eyes widened. “You had a nose job?”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Yeah, and yours is better,” she said, and Bucky stared at her, mouth hanging open. He'd had a nose job? What was wrong with him?

“Can I get you a drink?” the barman asked suddenly, and Natasha turned to him with a blinding smile. 

“I'll have a Long Island iced tea, please.” She turned to Bucky. “I get the feeling I'm going to need a few of these before the night is over.”

“And for you, sir?”

“I'll have a lemonade,” Bucky said automatically, then paused. “No, you know what? I'll have a cosmopolitan, _not_ virgin. Do you want to see my ID? I totally have it.”

The barman shook his head, amused, while Natasha was looking at him like he'd grown a second head. 

“Ah, my lovely editors,” said a voice from behind them as the barman put their drinks on the counter, and Bucky turned to see Sam looking resplendent in a three piece suit. “Natasha, love the look, kind of deadly assassin meets ballerina, and Bucky! That color is perfect on you, really makes your eyes pop.”

“I know! I mean, thank you,” Bucky replied, and Sam grinned. 

“Well, I'll let you two go and work the room. I'll catch up with you in a while!”

An hour later, and Bucky was on his fourth cosmopolitan and feeling _fabulous_ , thanks for asking. He looked out across the empty dancefloor as Sam spoke to a young couple who were on their way out the door. 

Natasha stood beside him and sighed. Bucky turned to her, grinning. 

“It's eleven o’clock on a school night and I'm at a party. This is so cool!”

Natasha frowned. “It's eleven o’clock and people are leaving. This is a disaster.”

“It is?”

“Well, yeah.” Natasha looked past Bucky and straightened up. “Speaking of disasters, what is he doing here?”

“Who?”

“Clint Barton? Shimmer’s editor-in-chief? Oh no. He's spotted us.”

A man in a purple shirt with blond spiky hair approached them, grinning. 

“Hello, you two. Our Kim Kardashian West issue is selling like hot cakes. How's yours doing?”

“Hey Clint. Good to see you managed to get a drink at the bar--the barman don't usually serve hags until everyone else has gone.”

“Oh, you wound me. You might want to think about changing the name of your magazine? Maybe to ‘Funk’, or ‘Freefall’, whichever most implies _failure_ ,” he finished with a smirk. 

“You know what?” Bucky burst out. “You are rude and mean and sloppy and spiky. I don't like you at all.”

Clint looked briefly taken aback, before his features smoothed out again into disdain. “Well, then it's lucky I don't care about being liked. Only about winning. Which I am! See you later.”

Clint stalked off, and Bucky glared after him. 

A few moments later, Sam approached. “If this party doesn't pick up soon… what a flop,” he said sadly. 

Bucky listened for a few moments to the hip dance music the DJ was playing. 

“Well maybe if they played something people could dance to!” 

Sam sighed. “Play whatever you like. At this point I'll try anything.”

Bucky thought for a moment, then remembered a dance he and Steve always used to practice in his parents’ basement on rainy days after school. He approached the DJ, and soon the familiar strains of “Electric Boogie” were playing through the speakers. 

He strode into the middle of the dance floor, more bravado than real bravery, and winced as a spotlight was suddenly aimed at him. He started to clap his hands to the beat, trying to get the room going; then, in the crowd, he spotted…

“Steve!” he hissed, and Steve smiled at him from the crowd who had gathered. “Steve, c'mere!” Bucky gestured to him to come over, and Steve's eyes widened as he shook his head. The spotlight moved to shine on Steve, who shook his head more emphatically. Bucky rolled his eyes and ran over, grabbing Steve's arm and pulling him onto the dancefloor. 

“Bucky, I don't even know this dance any more,” Steve said helplessly. 

“Shut up and dance,” Bucky retorted, rolling his eyes, and Steve sighed as Bucky began to grapevine to the right. When Bucky began to move left, Steve began to move with him. Then back, rocking, then the turn with an enthusiastic knee slap. Bucky looked around and noticed people starting to move onto the dancefloor, joining in. Even Natasha ran onto the dancefloor, as did Bruce, and finally Sam joined them at the front, giving it his usual flair. Steve looked up and caught Bucky's eye, and his face shuttered. 

“I'm sorry, I've… I've gotta go,” he shouted over the music, and escaped before Bucky could say anything. But he was too swept up in what was happening to chase after Steve, and then Sam was twirling him around and kissing his hand, and the night was amazing. 

***

Slowly but surely, over the next few days Bucky got into the swing of his new life. He went shopping, and charged a ridiculous amount to his credit card, but his credit limit was astronomical so it really didn't matter. 

On Saturday night, he went out for drinks with Natasha. 

“To being thirty,” he said, raising his glass in a toast. “I've decided it's gonna be awesome.”

“Hell yeah, it is. You're built, you're hot, you can have any guy you want, biatch.”

Bucky laughed. “And of course, biatch, there's the extra added bonus of being the hottest magazine editor on the planet.”

“Uh, second hottest,” Natasha retorted. 

Bucky looked at her consideringly. “Tied for first?”

“Deal.” They clinked their glasses together and Bucky drank deep. 

“Hey, gorgeous,” a breathy voice said in his ear. “Want my number?”

Bucky turned his head to see an incredibly drunk guy swaying beside him. 

“Um, not even remotely?” Bucky replied, disgusted. The guy leaned in as if to try and kiss him, and Bucky pushed him backwards. The guy stumbled and fell onto a chair, and Bucky shuddered. 

“Can we get out of here?” he pleaded, and Natasha sighed. 

“Yeah, you big baby. Come on. Let's find a bar with standards.”

As they left the bar, Bucky looked across the street and gasped. 

“Oh my god, Natasha! It's the naked guy!”

The guy looked up and waved at Bucky. “Hey, gorgeous!” he called out as he signed something for a young woman. 

“He thinks I'm gorgeous?” Bucky asked Natasha, amazed. 

Natasha rolled her eyes hard enough that Bucky started to worry they were gonna stick. “Well, duh. He is your boyfriend.”

“Okay, so uh. Why are people asking for my boyfriend’s autograph?”

Natasha laughed. “Well, he's not the richest billionaire philanthropist in the world, but he's the billionaire philanthropist with the best ass.”

Bucky was getting ready to freak out over the fact that he was apparently dating a billionaire when he heard someone call his name. He looked up and saw…

“Steve! Hey!”

“Hey,” Steve said sheepishly, a young guy with short brown hair by his side. “I'm sorry about the other night.”

“Oh my god,” Natasha said with a laugh. “Stick insect, is that you?”

“Hey, Natnat. Like your new nose,” Steve replied easily, and Natasha subsided, touching her nose self consciously. 

“I can't believe you're here,” Bucky burst out. “What're you doing in this neck of the woods?”

“I'm uh. I'm actually doing some late night shopping with um. Bucky, this is my fiancé. Scott.”

Bucky's heart sank into his toes. Steve was engaged? But of course, Steve had this whole other life without him in it. Bucky smiled bravely and shook hands with Scott. 

“Hi, Scott. Are you an artist too?”

“I see you've spent so much time talking about me,” Scott said with a laugh. “No, I'm an electrical engineer, working for a firm out in Chicago. Steve told me all about his blast from the past! It was really sweet of you to look him up.”

“Oh, gosh, Steve is the one who… I don't know what I would have done without him,” Bucky insisted. 

“I'm sure you'll be fine,” Scott replied, smiling. “We've actually just been talking about Steve finally coming and joining me--”

“We're still discussing it,” Steve said in a rush, before peering at the man running across the road. “Is that… Tony Stark?”

The naked man--Bucky's _boyfriend_ \--stopped next to them and slung his arm around Bucky. 

“Bucky, hey, sorry I'm late.” He looked curiously at Steve and Scott. “Who are you folks?” he asked, smiling. 

“Oh, right,” Bucky said, remembering his manners. “This is my old friend Steve, and his friend Scott.”

“Fiancé,” Scott said, as they all shook hands. 

“Fiancé! Right. So weird.” Bucky shook his head. “Uh, guys, this is…” He paused briefly, realizing he didn't know his boyfriend’s name. 

Luckily, he didn't have to. “You're Tony Stark,” Steve said, and his voice sounded a little awed. “I was at your science fair last year, it was great.”

Tony smiled at him. “Always nice to meet a fan. Next year I'll mention you to the guys on the door, give you all access passes.”

“Thanks.” There was a slightly awkward silence, before Steve broke it with, “Well, I think we should probably get going. It was nice to meet you, Tony. Good to see you again, Bucky. Natnat.”

They all said goodbye to Steve and Scott, who wandered off together, talking and laughing. 

“So,” Tony said to Natasha, his arm tightening around Bucky's waist. “Mind if I steal him away for the night?”

Natasha smirked. “Not at all. I actually had my eye on someone inside. You two go have fun.”

Tony started to lead Bucky away, but a thought struck him and he wriggled out of Tony's grasp. “I'll be right back,” he promised, and ran back to Natasha. “Do you… do you think I should go to his place? Alone?” he asked her. He was pretty sure his parents would go nuts if they ever found out. 

Natasha shrugged. “Yeah, why not. Go play. You've earned it, right?”

Bucky nodded thoughtfully. “Play. You mean like games?”

“Oh yeah,” Natasha replied, her expression turning wicked. “All kinds of games. But I don't wanna know about it.”

Bucky frowned, confused, but Natasha had already left and Tony was calling on him. 

***

They got a cab back to Tony's penthouse, and Tony took Bucky's jacket off of him like a proper gentleman, which was so weird given that Bucky had seen his… his thingy that one morning. 

But then Tony was kissing his neck, right under his ear, saying “I couldn't wait to see you tonight,” and making Bucky feel really, really weird. 

He giggled and pulled away. “You, uh, you want to play a game?” he asked, before it could get gross. 

“Hmm, what kind of game?”

“You got Clue?”

Tony looked amused. “Mhm.”

“Ooh, I call Professor Peacock!”

“Well I call the Reverend Green.”

However, instead of getting the game out, Tony started kissing him on the other side of his neck, and Bucky pulled away sharply. 

“Stop that!”

Tony looked at him questioningly, then his expression cleared. “Okay, okay. I know why you're mad. I owe you a blow job.”

Tony sank to his knees in front of Bucky before he could even react, and started to undo his belt buckle. Bucky squeaked, pulled out of Tony's grasp, grabbed his coat and ran for the elevator. 

On the way down, he fought back panic. He couldn't believe that Tony was going to do… to do… _that_ to him! He remembered locker room talk of guys saying their boyfriend or girlfriend had given them a blow job, and how great it was, but Bucky really wasn't ready for anyone to touch him there yet, even if he was thirty now. The very idea terrified him. 

***

The next day he saw Peter in the elevator again, and poured out his tale of woe, leaving out the bit about the blow job. 

“He didn't have Clue. He didn't have any board games!” Bucky lamented. 

“Boys are so stupid. Why don't the ones you like ever like you?” Peter asked sadly. 

Bucky set his mouth in a determined line. “Because you have to fight for what you want, Peter.”

“Wow.”

“Anyway,” Bucky continued as they stepped out the elevator. “Have fun at school!”

“Have fun at work!”

Bucky climbed into the town car. “To the office, please!”

***

They were all in the meeting room, spitballing ideas as they waited for Sam. But when the editor-in-chief entered, he looked so serious that the chatter quieted down immediately. 

“Sam? What's wrong?” Bucky asked. 

Sam sighed heavily. “Our circulation numbers are half of Shimmer’s. Corporate… well, they've mentioned the “r” word.”

Everyone looked at each other in shock. 

“Redesign? But… Sam, redesign is a death sentence. Shimmer have been stealing from us and we have to redesign?”

“I know, Natasha. But if we're going to stay afloat it's the only choice we have.”

Bucky frowned. “I don't see why redesign has to be a death sentence,” he said forcefully. “Shimmer can have our cast offs. They've not had an original idea for years. We can come up with something so new and innovative they'll never see it coming, and we can show the world we've got some flair left!”

Sam beamed at him. “Good, because I'm going to need my two editors to work hard on this. You have two weeks. Okay, folks. Dismissed.”

Bucky's head was in a whirl as he walked back to his office, and he almost didn't notice Bruce catching up with him.

“Uh, I have your urgent messages?”

“Okay,” Bucky said cheerfully. “Let's hear them!”

“Hear them?” Bruce responded, looking doubtful. “Well, okay. Um. Jenna Carlton called and said, ‘I can't believe I saw you making eyes at my boyfriend you grody two-faced whore, you need to find some standards in the trash can you crawled out of’.”

“Oh.” Bucky was shocked. Did someone really hate him that much?

“And, uh, Geoff Stanton called, ‘You are such a fucking bitch, you stole that idea from me and you know it, I hope it shrivels and falls off you waste of space’...”

“Uh, maybe I should read them myself,” Bucky said hurriedly, and Bruce nodded. 

“I think that's maybe best.”

Bucky shut himself in his office and groaned. The more he learned about himself now the less he liked himself. What the heck kind of person had he been that everyone hated him like this?

He flicked through his messages--most of them were like the ones Bruce had read out, and it made his stomach churn. Then he got to one from Tony that made him squeak and blush, before crumpling up the message and throwing it in the trash. That man had a filthy mouth and Bucky did not intend to encourage him. 

As he worked, his phone rang. 

“Hello?”

“ _Mr Stark is on the phone asking when would be a good time for dinner?_ ”

“Ugh, tell him I'll have dinner with him when hell freezes over, how does that work for him?”

“ _I'll pass that along,_ ” Bruce replied, sounding amused. 

A few moments later, the phone rang again.

“ _Sorry to bother you again, but Rick Everett is here?_ ”

“Who?” 

“ _Um, Carly from marketing’s husband?_ ”

Bucky looked at his phone, brow wrinkling. “Uh, okay? Send him in.”

The door opened and a guy walked in. 

“I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd pop in and say hello while I was in seeing Carly,” the man said jovially, and Bruce gave him a disgusted look before leaving. 

“Alone at last,” Rick said, before pulling Bucky in by his belt loops and planting one on him. 

Bucky pulled back, appalled. “What the hell are you doing?”

“What's wrong?” Rick looked genuinely confused, and Bucky wiped his mouth. 

“What's wrong? You are _married_ to someone I work with! That is disgusting!”

“That didn't stop us going a round on your desk at the Christmas party,” Rick said with a grin, leaning in again. 

Bucky's response was to knee him in the crotch and grab his coat and bag before escaping. As he walked out, he heard Natasha talking to another woman they worked with, Samantha. 

“We need to get the best people on this, but I really don't want Bucky to know,” Natasha was saying. 

“Yeah, okay. What's up with him lately?”

“Ugh, I don't know, but his little-boy-lost act is really starting to piss me off and I have no time for it. You know he stole Carl’s idea and got him fired, and now he's acting all innocent? But we're gonna do our own presentation and let him fall on his ass.”

“Sounds good,” Samantha said with a giggle, and Bucky just wanted to cry. 

The only thing he could think was that he needed to see a friend, so he ran outside and took a cab to Steve's. 

Steve, at least, looked pleased to see him. 

“Bucky, hey!”

Bucky tried to smile, only partly successfully. “Do you maybe wanna go for a walk?”

A few minutes later they were wandering through the streets aimlessly. 

“I still can't believe you're getting married,” Bucky said suddenly. 

“Yeah, in two weeks.”

“Does he make you feel all gooey inside when you think of him?” Bucky asked wistfully, and Steve frowned. 

“Nah. I haven't felt that way about anyone since high school.”

“But he seems nice.”

“Yeah, yeah he is.”

They wandered in for a few moments, before Bucky stopped, his hand on Steve's arm. 

“Steve, what happened to us?” he asked. “I mean, why did we stop being friends?”

Steve's expression shuttered. “I don't know. It was a long time ago.”

“Steve.”

“Bucky.”

“ _Steve_!”

“Okay, fine.” Steve sighed. “If you really want to get into this… it was pretty much one moment. Your thirteenth birthday party. You were in the closet, playing that terrible game whatever it was called--”

“Seven minutes in heaven! And everyone left, and that's the last thing I remember!”

“Well, you came out the closet while I was playing your birthday song and threw, at my head, the GI Joe fort I'd spent weeks making for you.” Steve shrugged. “Then, I don't know. You just stopped being my friend and never spoke to me again.”

Bucky found himself on the edge of tears. So it was all his fault. Steve noticed his shining eyes and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

“Hey, man, it's fine. I mean, I'm over it.”

Bucky shook his head, blinking back the tears. “Stop… stop being so nice to me, Steve,” he said shakily. “I don't deserve it. Do you know what kind of a person I am now? I have no real friends, I'm a horrible person, I did something awful with a married man, everyone hates me with good reason. I don't even talk to my family any more. And the thing is… I'm not thirteen any more.”

He felt the tears start to spill over and ran, ignoring Steve calling his name behind him. 

***

All Bucky could think was how much he wanted to see his family, so he hopped on a train and headed upstate. When he let himself in with his key, however, there was nobody home, and he remembered Bruce saying that they were in Jamaica. 

Bucky wandered aimlessly through the house, discovering that his old room had been turned into a gym, then down to the basement and looked thoughtfully at the closet. Maybe…

Closing the closet door behind him, he sat down, his back to the shelves, and started rocking back and forth, murmuring, “Thirteen again. Thirteen again. Thirteen again.”

He looked down, realizing that it hadn't worked, and the tears started to fall as he rocked back against the shelves more forcefully. A basketball fell and nearly landed on him, but he didn't care, he just wanted to go back, why couldn't he go back?

Suddenly, the closet door flung open, revealing his pop, holding a baseball bat, and his ma behind, looking scared, then confused when she saw him. 

“Bucky?” his pop said, his tone a question, and Bucky stood, flinging himself first at his pop, then his ma, wrapping them up in hugs.

“What on earth are you doing here?” his ma asked, holding him tightly. 

Bucky wiped his face with his hand. “I just really wanted to see you. I missed you,” he said miserably. 

“Oh. Oh, honey.”

His parents led him upstairs to the living room, but didn't make him talk about anything, for which he was grateful. He didn't want his parents to know what kind of person he'd become, even though they probably had some idea. They got takeout for dinner, then his ma made up the bed in Becca’s room for him, and he lay awake in the dark staring at the fuchsia walls for a long time. 

Unable to sleep, he looked at his watch, which read one-oh-six a.m., and he sighed, getting up and going through to his parents’ room. He touched his ma’s shoulder and she blinked her eyes open groggily, then smiled when she saw him kneeling by her bed. 

“Bucky?” she whispered. 

“Can I…?” he whispered back, gesturing to the bed, and his ma gave him an indulgent look, shifting backwards and holding up the comforter so he could climb in. He finally got to sleep within moments, his ma’s hand a comforting weight on his arm. 

The next morning, his ma made him waffles with a glass of milk, and he ate hungrily. When his ma sat down next to him, he paused and looked at her questioningly. 

“Ma, did you ever make a mistake that you really regretted, and it made you wish you could go back and change it? Like, is there anything you wish you'd done differently?”

His ma thought for a moment, then shook her head. “No, nothing. I wouldn't change a thing. Because all mistakes have lead me up the path I'm on now, and I'm pretty happy. Besides, if I'd never made those mistakes, I wouldn't have figured out how to make things right.”

Bucky thought for a moment, then smiled softly. “I'm sorry I missed Christmas,” he said quietly, and his ma beamed at him. 

Maybe he could make things right after all. 

***

On Monday evening, when Bucky had been working late on his idea, he met Natasha in the elevator as he headed home. They smiled at each other, but Bucky knew he wouldn't be taken in by Natasha's smiles again. 

They rode in silence for a few moments, then Natasha said suddenly, “Oh, hey, I hope you don't mind, I've been working on a really last minute idea, nothing complicated, but, you know.”

“Cool!” Bucky said brightly. “Me too!”

He ignored Natasha's shocked look and stepped out the elevator, feeling lighter than he had in a long time. 

***

The following day, Steve arrived, as invited, to a large school football field. He gave Bucky a confused look as he saw the lights and various people milling around with photography equipment. 

“Huh, someone's got a big shoot to do,” Steve observed mildly, and Bucky grinned at him. 

“Did you bring them?”

“Uh, yeah. Bucky, what's going on?”

Bucky handed over an envelope. “Flair would like to hire you for a week to be our photographer for a very special issue,” he replied gleefully. As Steve opened the envelope, Bucky continued hurriedly, “And this is just the first half. You'll get the rest when the week is over.”

Steve stared at the check in his hand. “Wow, I mean, yeah, I could really use this right now. But Bucky, you don't need to do me a any favors.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I'm the one asking for a favor, okay? I've had a look at your work and I love it. You're as good as I always knew you would be. We're also gonna want some illustrations, which I know will be no problem for someone with your talent.”

“Yeah, but… Bucky, I've seen your magazine. My style isn't that style at all.”

“Yeah, well, that's kinda the whole point,” Bucky said, grinning. “So? What do you say?”

Steve sighed, smiling. “Let's do it.”

The next week was a blur of photoshoots and wrangling teachers, teenagers and school mascots, but finally, at the end of the week, Bucky and Steve were in Steve's workspace, looking at the prints and various artworks Steve had put together. 

“Wow. Steve, these are amazing,” Bucky said softly. 

“Yeah, I think they turned out pretty well.”

“I can't wait to show everyone your work.” Bucky paused, thoughtfully. “C’mon. I'll walk you home because I'm a _gentleman_.”

Steve laughed, and Bucky's heart leaped. 

As they walked, they passed a basketball court, and Bucky bumped Steve's shoulder, grinning. 

“Wanna shoot a few hoops?”

Steve rolled his eyes, but smiled. “Yeah. Come on then.”

Bucky grabbed the ball from beside the fence as they went in, and Steve took up his position between Bucky and the hoop. 

Bucky won the first two points easily, at which point Steve clearly decided it was time to play dirty. He crowded into Bucky's space suddenly, knocking him off balance, and Bucky tripped, falling backwards. He grabbed at Steve, taking him down too, and they landed together in a heap. 

“Uh, you are _heavier_ than you used to be!” Bucky said with a laugh, as Steve propped himself up on his arms. His laugh trailed off as Steve looked down at him, murmuring, “Buck?” questioningly. Then Steve was leaning down and Bucky was leaning up, their mouths meeting in the middle. Bucky forgot everything in the softness of the kiss. It was his first real kiss--the first kiss he'd wanted--and he wondered when he'd fallen for his best friend. 

Steve pulled back and looked down at Bucky, brow furrowed, then flopped onto his back beside him.

Bucky sighed. The moment was over, and they had to get back to reality. 

“C'mon, Steve,” he said softly. “We need to go.”

Steve nodded, and after dropping Steve off at his apartment--sadly with no more kisses--Bucky went home, feeling the whole way as though his feet never even touched the ground. 

***

The next day was a flurry of excitement. Bucky, Bruce, and Wanda, another girl from the office, spent the entire morning putting together Bucky's presentation. 

“So?” Bucky said when they were done. “What do you think?”

“I think…” Bruce began, then laughed. “I think I'm gonna start reading Flair for the first time in my life.”

Bucky hugged them both, before heading out with Bruce to collect the last of the prints. This was gonna be awesome. 

***

When he arrived back at the office, the place was in an uproar. Apparently Natasha's presentation had gone down like a lead balloon, and Sam was freaking out. 

Bucky finished up quickly and took his presentation through to the meeting room. All eyes were on him. The nerves almost became too much, but he took a deep breath. He could do this. 

***

As Bucky finished his presentation, including the photographs and illustrations from Steve, the room was silent. Then, as he was starting to worry, everyone burst into applause, Sam clapping the hardest. 

“We'll present this idea to corporate first thing tomorrow morning,” Sam announced, smiling widely, and everyone cheered. “So who is this mystery artist?” he asked Bucky, lowering his voice. 

“Steve Rogers,” Bucky replied with a smile. “He's an old friend.”

“Well. God, Bucky, thanks for saving our bacon.”

Bucky grinned and clapped Sam on the shoulder, and headed out towards Steve's apartment. 

When he arrived, the door opened… to reveal Scott. 

Bucky his his surprise. “Uh, hi, Scott. Is Steve in? I have some good news about his art and photos.”

Scott's smile widened. “Oh, that's great, he'll be thrilled! But he's not in right now--he's out getting his tux for the wedding tomorrow.”

Bucky felt his heart sink. The wedding. Steve's wedding. 

“We're having it at his grandma’s house, of course, and it's gonna be such a quaint little backyard wedding. I'd probably have preferred something a bit classier? But Steve likes things simple,” Scott finished with a laugh, and Bucky wanted to punch him. 

“Well, uh. I hope everything goes well,” Bucky managed, before escaping. 

***

The following morning, Bucky was in his office, going over his presentation, when Sam came in, looking serious. 

“You can stop that, Bucky. The meeting is cancelled.”

Bucky looked at him in surprise. “What? Why?”

Sam's eyes narrowed. “Because Natasha took all your ideas to Shimmer and she's their new editor-in-chief.”

Bucky was outraged; he could feel anger bubbling through him. “She can't do that! She can't steal Steve's stuff!”

“She can and she did. She somehow got him to sign a general release.” Sam shrugged. “It's over.”

Bucky's eyes narrowed and he stomped past Sam, down the hallway to Natasha's office. 

“How dare you?” he cried as he stalked inside, slamming the door behind him. “What the hell gave you the right?”

Natasha started to laugh. “Wow, are you for real? Do you even hear yourself? After I found this in your office?”

Natasha held out a letter, and Bucky snatched it from her. 

“You went through my stuff?”

“Oh please, quit it with the holier than thou act. You're just pissed I got there before you. I spoke to Clint at Shimmer. I know all about your little deal. You get to be the new editor-in-chief if you help them hit a million sales.”

Bucky felt his heart breaking. “And Steve?”

“Oh, I told him you'd decided to go in a different direction. Might have said something else too? Don't quite remember.” Natasha's tone was vicious, and Bucky only just managed to stop himself from getting into a bitchslap fight with her by reminding himself that he wasn't thirteen any more. 

“You'll get what's coming to you, you horrible bitch,” he spat, and left on a wave of her laughter. 

He got the train upstate, then jumped into a cab and gave the driver Steve's grandma’s address, before sitting back and praying he was gonna be on time. 

“Bucky? Bucky Barnes?” Bucky looked up at the driver, wrinkled and balding, with an unkempt beard. “Don’t you remember me?”

Bucky stared, then gasped. “Brock? Brock Rumlow?” God, he had changed so much. He wasn't the handsome stud that Bucky remembered from school. 

“Yeah! God, it's so great to see you. How are things going? Man, we should definitely hook up some time, see if any of our old chemistry is still there!” Brock winked, and Bucky barely held back from gagging. 

Luckily, he was saved from having to answer when they got stuck in a traffic jam only a five minute walk from Steve's. 

“Thanks, Brock, I gotta go,” Bucky yelled, throwing money at him and clambering out the cab as quickly as he could. He set off at a run, ignoring Brock calling his name. 

When he arrived, Steve's house was a flurry of activity. He managed to sneak inside, almost getting spotted by his parents, and sneaked up to Steve's room. When he passed what had been the spare room the door was slightly ajar and he saw Scott getting ready, laughing with his groomsmen. Bucky tiptoed the rest of the way down the hall and opened Steve's door quietly. 

Steve was standing at the window, doing up his bow tie, and stared at Bucky as he closed the door behind him. 

“Bucky? What are you doing here?” he asked quietly. 

“I don't know what Natasha said to you,” Bucky began shakily. “But whoever she was talking about… that wasn't me. Not the real me. I'm not the person I know I became, and I want to believe that if you believed that too, you wouldn't be marrying someone today, unless… unless that someone was me.”

Steve looked at him, stricken. “God, Buck, I mean. I can't deny that this past month I've felt things I didn't even know I was capable of feeling any more. But we went down different roads. You chose your friends, and your career. And I… I chose Scott. He's a great guy. His whole family is down there with mine. I can't do this, Buck. I'm sorry.”

Bucky shook his head, blinking back tears. “No, no, of course. You're right. I was being selfish.”

Steve made an abortive hand movement, as though he was going to reach out. “Buck. Please don't cry.”

“No, Steve, c'mon, I'll be fine,” Bucky replied, trying to smile. 

“While you're here…” Steve went into his closet and took out the GI Joe base he had made for Bucky all those years ago. 

“Steve, can I… can I take it with me?”

Steve smiled. “Yeah. Of course. Just don't, y'know, throw it at me.”

“I won't. Now you go on or you'll be late. Steve, I just want you to be happy, and I think Scott can do that. Just. Please be happy.”

Steve nodded, and Bucky took the GI Joe base out to his parents’ back porch. As the strains of the wedding music began, Bucky began to sob, not noticing the glittery wishing dust whirling in the wind towards him. 

***

It was dark. 

It was dark, and Bucky could hear the faint strains of N-Sync. 

He tore the scarf from around his eyes, and looked down at his weedy, thirteen year old body, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. He flung open the closet door and pounced on Steve, who was standing outside, sending them both onto the floor. 

“Steve!” Bucky cried happily, before kissing him. 

When he finally pulled back, Steve looked up at him, awed. “Wow. You really know what you're doing!”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Come on. Let's get out of here.”

As they ran up the stairs, Natnat was coming back down. “Uh, I forgot my scarf?” she said, confused. 

Bucky threw it at her and grabbed the assignment from her hands, ripping it into pieces. “Who’s holier than thou now, biatch?” Bucky said snidely, and dragged Steve up the stairs, ignoring Natnat’s outraged spluttering. 

***

“Is that the last of it?”

Steve shook his head. “Come on, Buck. You know we both had way too much stuff for that to be the last of it.”

“Hmm.” Bucky pulled Steve in for a kiss, wrapping his arms around Steve's shoulders as Steve's wrapped around his waist. 

Bucky looked over at their new home, smiling softly. “I think this is just perfect, Mr Barnes-Rogers.”

Steve kissed him on the cheek. “I think you might just be right, Mr Barnes-Rogers.”

It wasn't the castle he'd dreamed of before his thirteenth birthday, no. It was better. And as Steve smiled at him, he knew he'd found his dream house at last.


End file.
